Echoes of Morgan
by M. Willow
Summary: Starsky copes with a new nightmare in this sequel to 'Whispers of Morgan'.
1. Chapter 1

Echoes of Morgan

By M. Willow

**_This is the sequel to 'Whispers of Morgan'. I would suggest reading that story before continuing. _**

_This story is rated R for violence and sexual content._

_I don't own the characters from Starsky & Hutch nor do I derive financial benefits._

**Chapter One**

Starsky started up the long flight of stairs with trepidation. He was dying. He could feel it the moment he'd left the safe confines of his car—his breaths were coming in quick gasp, his heart was beating wildly, and sweat poured from his body. Starsky eyed the darkened windows of his apartment as he climbed the stairs. He hadn't anticipated working late so he'd neglected to leave the lights on. Now he would have to pay a heavy price and walk into a dark apartment. He stumbled on the last steps as a wave of dizziness nearly toppled him back down the stairs. He desperately grasped the railing, his damp hands sliding over the ruff wood. He knew he had only seconds before he was completely incapacitated. Thankfully, a sudden rush of adrenalin propelled him forward and he entered the apartment quickly and turned on the lights. He leaned heavily against the door, his eyes closed, his body still shaking.

Starsky opened his eyes and gasped as he realized the shades were up. It was almost as if the darkness were trying to come inside. He quickly walked through the apartment, turning on more lights and pulling down the shades. He shuddered as he recalled his terrifying trip up the stairs and how it had all started.

It had been nearly a year since Morgan Harlow's death. Her family had been sentenced to jail for their crimes against him. They were locked away, but then so was he. He was a prisoner of the light—venturing out only during the daytime, a sort of reverse Vampire he laughed to himself. It had been that way for nearly a year and no one had noticed, not even Hutch. Simply put—he was afraid of the dark and it had all started with Janet Harlow.

Janet Harlow was the matriarch of the Harlow family. She was a cruel, vindictive woman who would stop at nothing to control the people around her. She was nearing forty when she had her first and only child, Morgan. She had enjoyed complete control over Morgan until the young woman fell in love with a cop and announced her intentions to marry. Janet was angry. She had planned for Morgan to be her companion during her old age and she wanted to control her so she had her nephew kill her fiancé and hide the body. Morgan was lead to believe that she had been deserted. Unfortunately, the young woman became mentally unbalanced, eventually committing suicide by plunging her car into the lake and nearly killing Starsky in the process.

Janet Harlow blamed Starsky for not saving her daughter. She wouldn't accept her part in her daughter's death. Starsky would not have been in the car in the first place if she hadn't caused Morgan to become so unbalanced that she sought the first cop who bore a passing resemblance to her fiancé and tried to kill him because of it.

The hatred that Janet Harlow felt for Starsky intensified to the point that she devised a plot with her niece and nephew to get revenge against him. She used her connections to develop a drug that would make Starsky hallucinate and think he was actually being haunted by the spirit of Morgan Harlow. She had her niece impersonate Morgan and make nightly visits. Starsky developed a habit of sleeping with the lights on which probably lead to his development of Nyctophobia. Now this fear threatened to do what Gunther's bullet could not—end his career.

Starsky entered his kitchen and grabbed the coffee container from the top shelf. It had been his love of coffee that had allowed Janet Harlow to administer the drug. Starsky shuddered as he recalled the last time he saw the old woman. It was the day the verdict was read. Janet Harlow had sat quietly, her white hair pulled into a tight bun, her steel grey eyes full of confidence as she waited for the jury to return. Starsky would never forget the look of shock on her face when the jury came back with a guilty verdict. She had screamed like an animal caught in a trap and then she looked at Starsky and with hatred dripping from every syllable spoke the words that still reverberated in his mind,

"You will suffer as I have suffered. You will live as I will live. And one day you will beg for death and I shall not grant it."

Hutch had moved protectively closer to him, almost as if he too felt the icy grip of fear that coursed through Starsky's body. But that had been five months ago. He'd returned to his life as a cop and Janet Harlow sat in jail along with her niece and nephew. Still, the affects of her crimes remained like a lingering echo.

Starsky decided that he didn't want coffee after all, so he put the canister back on the shelf and went to his bedroom. It was still early, but he was tired. Lately he was having trouble waking up in the morning. It was probably due to the stress of the past year. He thought about talking to Hutch, but his friend had been through so much over the past few years. First there was the long recovery from the Gunther shooting and then the Harlow family. Both had lead to a difficult recovery for Starsky, but the Harlow family had nearly taken his sanity.

Starsky looked at the telephone. One call and Hutch would come and they would work on this together. Still, what could Hutch do about an irrational fear? He pushed the thought aside, closing his eyes. Well at least he had doctor Crabtree.

Doctor Crabtree was the psychiatrist that Starsky saw after the Harlow scheme had been revealed. It was a requirement that Starsky see a psychiatrist before returning to duty. Starsky had strongly objected to seeing the department shrink. He was tired of their probing and endless questions. He had spent seven months talking to them after the Gunther shooting and wanted nothing more to do with them. Eventually, Dobey had conceded and compromised by suggesting doctor Crabtree.

Starsky had liked the doctor the minute he met him. He was an unusual man who reminded Starsky of the television doctor, Marcus Welby. Gone was the cold, impersonal attitude of the psychiatrist he had known in the past. In its place was a kind gentleman who spoke with a trace of a southern accent and served Mint Jubilee on the porch of his old Victorian home. Each visit to the doctor made Starsky feel like he was visiting an old friend.

The doctor used his living room as his office. It was a comfortable room with its hardwood floors, scattered oriental rugs, overstuffed chairs, fresh flowers and a large fireplace. Doctor Crabtree always sat in front of the fireplace as he listened to the curly-haired detective speak of his life over the past two years. Starsky found himself pouring his life out to a man who reminded him of a kindly grandfather. He spoke freely to the doctor about the shooting that nearly ended his life. His feelings of betrayal when he discovered Hutch with Kira. And he spoke of his fear when he actually believed that he was being haunted by Morgan Harlow. The doctor listened to all of this while sitting in his overstuffed chair smoking a pipe, the fire ablaze behind him. Eventually, Starsky no longer felt the need to see the doctor and he returned to work and his life continued as before. And then his fear of the darkness nearly suffocated him with its intensity and he returned to the doctor.

Nyctophobia —the fear of the dark. Doctor Crabtree had explained that although the fear was usually the domain of children, there were also adults sufferers. Starsky laughed. He was a homicide detective who'd faced deadly criminals, survived Viet Nam, and looked death in the face more than once. He remembered the doctor looking at him, his face serious. "But you've never faced a ghost," he'd said. And he hadn't. The fact was he had spent weeks suffering under the impression that he was being haunted by the spirit of a dead woman. He'd believed it through the haze of drugs and lack of sleep. He'd spent weeks sleeping with the lights on, trembling with fear. He knew the doctor was right, he was afraid of the dark. So afraid, that he suffered severe panic attacks whenever he found himself in darkness.

Starsky asked the doctor if he had a cure—he wanted his life back. He wanted to wake up in the morning knowing he wouldn't have to rush home because it was getting dark. But the doctor didn't have a cure. Instead he told him that it would take time and maybe a little therapy to overcome his fear. He encouraged him to come back and talk about it, but Starsky was tired of therapy and so he had returned home and turned the lights on and pulled the shades down and waited as the fear worsened.

Starsky stretched and looked at his clock. It was ten o'clock and he was in bed. But what else could a young, attractive, single cop do who was afraid of the dark.

The eerie darkness of the streets reflected in shadows against the streetlights. He saw the woman standing under the lights, her white blond hair falling softly around her shoulders. She was young, no more than thirty, but she had no innocence left in her eyes. Starsky saw that as he approached. This one had lived a hard life. This one had glimpsed the depths of hell.

He came closer. He could smell her now, the cheap perfume nearly suffocating him. The woman smiled and her eyes traveled the length of his body. He approached her, returning the smile. The woman never saw the knife in his hands until it was too late.

Starsky awoke to the steady pounding at the door.

"Starsky, open up," he heard Hutch shout.

Starsky looked at his clock. It was ten o'clock in the morning. He'd slept for twelve hours and he was late again. He could tell from the pounding at the door that Hutch was not amused. In the past three weeks, he'd been late at least four times, and it was his turn to pick up the blond detective.

Starsky grabbed his robe and headed for the door. He braced himself as he opened it and saw the angry detective standing there, his eyes ablaze.

"What the hell happened this time, Starsky?" he said, entering the apartment, and putting his hand on Starsky forehead.

Starsky shrugged him off. "I ain't sick, Hutch. Just overslept." Starsky said, heading to the bedroom. "Let me get showered and changed. Won't take long."

"Nope, buddy," Hutch said, grabbing his friend's arm, effectively halting any chance Starsky had of escaping without giving a reasonable explanation.

Starsky faced the blond detective. He could see anger etched on his friend's face, but he could also see the concern there. The blond knew something was wrong. Starsky could have been the best actor since Lawrence Oliver, but when it came to the Blond Blinz, no amount of acting talent could cover the fact that something was wrong with him. The two detectives were simply too close to keep secrets from one another.

Starsky took a shuddering breath, locking eyes with his friend. He would tell him everything now. He cleared his throat, ready to speak and then the telephone pierced the silence.

Hutch looked at Starsky. "Let it ring," he said, his voice, his hand resting softly on Starsky's arm.

Starsky closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the comforting touch of his friend and then he turned and walked to the telephone, the moment lost.

The two detectives drove to the park and were greeted by a young, white faced, rookie.

Starsky looked around the park. It was a beautiful day. The birds were singing. Children were playing, and a dead body lay in the rose garden. The incongruity of the moment was as staggering as the heat on this hot, summer day.

"The…the body is over there. She was stabbed," the rookie said through clinched teeth. "Ripped opened. Like…like…"

Starsky placed his hand on the rookies shoulder, guiding him to his squad car, and opening the door. "Why don't ya sit down while my partner and I take a look?"

The rookie sat in the car, his eyes looking in the direction of the body.

Dobey had called the detectives only minutes ago and told them to get to the park. Starsky was both relieved and disappointed—relieved because Hutch would have more time before he had to deal with yet another problem involving him and disappointed that he was still keeping secrets from his best friend.

The sun stood high in the sky, its hot intensity making the shirt cling to Starsky's body. He could smell the scent of roses in the air mingled with a slight ting of death. A tall, black cop carefully removed the white sheet covering the body.

Starsky gasped when he saw the girls face. She was young, no more than thirty. Her eyes were open, staring into the distance as if she sought the face of her killer. Starsky backed up, his heart beating so loudly he could hear it. He was aware of the startled look on Hutch's face as he turned and staggered toward the car. He reached the car, his legs barely carrying him as he leaned on the hood, his eyes closed. He heard the thud of footsteps and knew without opening his eyes that it was Hutch. He felt Hutch grab him, pulling him into a strong embrace. He was oblivious to the stares he knew this had to be causing. A wave of nausea swept over him as he was plunged into darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

Echoes of Morgan

By M. Willow

**Chapter Two**

Hutched paced the floor of the hospital. He'd been in this room too many times over the past years. He looked at the attempts to comfort the family and friends who waited—the blue, slightly stuffed chairs, the pictures of flowers that hung on the wall, the coffee machine sitting next to a television set. All the effort was lost on him. He had been here too many times and being here now made him angry. He found himself asking again—how much could one man endure before he broke?

Hutch heard the sound of footsteps. He schooled his features to present the cool demeanor of a cop. He watched as a large, dark-skinned man entered holding a bag. Dobey handed the bag to Hutch and took a seat in one of the chairs. Hutch noted how uncomfortable he looked as he pushed his hefty form into one of the small chairs.

"How is he, son?" the captain asked, looking with concern at his detective.

Hutch put the bag on the table next to him and took a seat, his long legs stretched in front of him, his hands rubbing his eyes.

"Don't know. He collapsed. Just collapsed."

"Did he seem sick earlier?"

"I thought he looked kinda sick, but you know Starsky."

"Yeah," the large man said. "Hates people fussing over him."

Hutch hated keeping the truth from Dobey. He was close to Dobey, closer than to his own father. But he didn't want to share a confidence with the captain. Not without knowing what was wrong. Something had terrified Starsky to the point of collapse. He picked up the bag the captain had given him and discovered a sandwich wrapped in paper. He was hungry so he quickly unwrapped the sandwich. He smiled gratefully at the captain and took a hearty bite from the veggie burger.

Hutch thought back to the moment Starsky had seen the victim. His face had gone white the minute the girl's face was revealed. He wondered if the resemblance to Morgan Harlow had caused his friend to pass out. The girl was blond and about the same size. Still, thousands of girls resembled Morgan. Why would this one cause the severe reaction Hutch had witnessed?

Hutch finished the burger and stood as a familiar red-head doctor entered the room. He'd treated Starsky after he'd nearly drowned less than a year ago. Hutch crossed the room, content in the knowledge that Starsky once again had the more than competent Dr. Rickert as his physician.

"We meet again," doctor Rickert said, eyeing Captain Dobey.

"This is Captain Dobey," Hutch said, indicating the portly man as he joined them. "How is my partner?"

"He's fine. No indication of anything. I suspect it was the heat. It's almost ninety-five degrees and you guys are wearing jackets. We've had more than a few people come in here today with the same problem."

Hutch took a relived breath. "Is he conscious?"

"Yes, and demanding to leave," the doctor smiled.

Hutch was not entirely convinced that it was the heat that caused his partner to pass out. He still remembered the look of shock, the white face, Starsky running to get away from the sight of the dead girl.

"You sure it's just the heat?" he asked.

Doctor Rickert was aware of Starsky's medical history and he knew about the Harlow family plot as did most people who lived in Bay City. The story had been front page for months. It had all of the intrigue of a novel— a wealthy woman bent on revenge, a cop driven to the brink of insanity, a beautiful woman, dead before her time. It was sex, murder, revenge, all tied into a neat story on the front page of every newspaper in Bay City. It hadn't help that Starsky was the same cop who had nearly been assassinated by Gunther's goons less than a year previously.

Doctor Rickert looked reassuringly at the blond detective. "We're running test to make sure, but I'm pretty certain it was the heat. I suggest he not return to work for a few days. Give us time to get the results back and maybe it will get a little cooler. I'm going to release him now. Take him home. Make sure he gets enough fluids. He was rather dehydrated which could have compounded the effects of the hot day we're having." Doctor Rickert put his hand on Hutch's arm. "He'll be fine, detective. Go see him. Take him home."

"Nothin' but the heat Hutch. I'm as healthy as they come so stop worrying I was too hot and I didn't drink enough water. The doctor said so himself."

Hutch looked at his friend. They were standing in Starsky's kitchen while Hutch prepared a late lunch of fried chicken and mashed potatoes. Starsky was energized almost to the point of making Hutch tired just by looking at him.

"We haven't got the test results back yet. Till then, you're taking it easy. I've only got one best friend and partner. It's my job to make sure he's fit to hang out with me." Hutch said, enjoying the easy banter.

The food was ready so Hutch put chicken and mashed potatoes on two plates and sat them on the table along with a large glass of water. "Have a seat. Your dinner is ready."

Starsky grabbed a napkin from the counter and took a seat at the table. "Mother Hen, that's what you are." He said smiling, a teasing tone to his voice.

Hutch became somber. "You wanted to tell me something earlier, before Dobey interrupted."

"It was nothin'" Starsky said, taking a sip of water.

"Didn't sound like nothing."

"Hutch, I don't wanna talk about it now, okay. Maybe…"

The sound of the doorbell interrupted the two detectives. Starsky stared gratefully at the door. Hutch could see the look of relief in his eyes.

"I'll get it," Hutch said getting up from the table. He couldn't believe they'd been interrupted again. It was like the universe was conspiring to prevent him from finding out what was wrong with Starsky. He took a deep breath then opened the door.

Jennifer Reese stood at the door, her soft blond hair pulled into a ponytail. She was the precincts first female detective. In the past there had been a few women who had been assigned to the precinct on a temporary basis. These women were usually there for one case and moved on. Jennifer had been given a partner and a full case load. Sadly, her partner had been killed only a few months ago.

"Hey Hutch," she said smiling and entering the apartment. "Heard about the curly one and thought I would stop by and see what's shaking."

"Ain't me," Hutch heard Starsky scream from the kitchen. "I'm as sound as a rock."

Jennifer headed to the kitchen. She brushed her hands across Starsky's hair and took a seat. She grabbed a piece of chicken from Hutch's plate and proceeded to eat it. Hutch shrugged as he grabbed a chair and sat down next to her.

"So Reese, why'dya really stop by. I know it's not because you missed my handsome face." Starsky said flirtatiously in a Bogart voice.

Jennifer grabbed his hand and looked seductively at him. "I always miss your handsome face," and they both burst out in laughter.

Hutch shook his head. Starsky couldn't help himself. He enjoyed flirting with every woman who had ever worked at the precinct. But Jennifer came with special orders from the captain. "I don't want you two Casanovas flirting with the new detective." Dobey had said a week before Jennifer was scheduled to start. The captain was aware of the Kira fiasco and was not eager to see it repeated and frankly neither was Hutch—it had nearly cost him the friendship of the most important person in his life. Dobey pointed out that he didn't want to see his precinct become a singles dating service. "We're professionals," the captain admonished. "And I expect every man in this precinct to behave." Which wouldn't have been difficult if Jennifer hadn't been so beautiful and Starsky not such a hopeless flirt.

Hutch cleared his throat, "So what really brings you here?"

Starsky gave Hutch an evil glare as Jennifer answered.

"Well," Jennifer said, grabbing a napkin and dabbing at her mouth. "The captain wants me to work with you two guys on this case."

An uncomfortable silence followed. Hutch locked eyes with Starsky and communication took place without a single word being spoken. They had only been forced to work with other cops a few times and neither had enjoyed it.

"Okay guys, enough with the silent communication." Jennifer said, looking at them with her soft brown eyes.

"What, the cap'n don't think we can handle it," Starsky said angrily.

Jennifer put her hands up. "Woa. Captain only wants me to do a little research while you two are holded up here. He said Starsky was going to be off a few days he didn't want the case getting cold. I'm just around to do a little leg work, that's all. I'm sorry if I'm stepping on toes." Jennifer said, hurt apparent in her voice, her eyes cast downward.

Starsky took her hands in his. "Hey, I'm sorry about the outburst. Didn't mean anything by it. Been a tough day for me, that's all. I'm sorry."

Jennifer looked up, the smile returning to her face. She and Starsky looked into each others eyes and just for a moment, Hutch felt like an intruder at an intimate moment. And then Jennifer removed her hands and took a sip of water from Hutch's glass. "I think the captain also had an ulterior motive."

Both men suspected what that motive had been. Jennifer was an excellent detective, but her partner had been killed in the line of duty only a few months ago and it had been difficult for Jennifer to adjust after the shooting that had ended her partner's life. The captain had tried to put her with several detectives and it had never worked. Either the detective had refused to work with a woman or Jennifer had made life difficult for them and they had finally requested another partner. Either way she was at odds with the force and in serious jeopardy of leaving. No doubt the captain had decided that she could work with his two best detectives until something could be arranged of a more permanent situation.

Starsky stood. "Listen, it's okay Jennifer. We could probably use your input. Right now, I think I need a shower, so I'll leave Hutch to catch you up."

"Sounds good," Jennifer said, eyeing the dark-haired detective as he left the room. She turned her attention to Hutch. "Sorry about eating your chicken. I was just nervous about coming over here. I eat when I'm nervous even if it isn't my own food."

"It's okay," Hutch said standing. "There's plenty more."

Starsky was grateful that Jennifer had arrived when she had. He was saved from having to explain what had been bothering him. Starsky stripped his clothes and got into the shower. The cool water refreshed him as he thought back to the young woman they'd found in the rose garden. He had recognized her instantly. She was the woman in his dreams. He could still recall seeing her standing under the streetlight, the glare illuminating her blonde hair. She'd smiled when he walked up to her and then he had the knife in his hands.

Starsky stepped from the shower and dried himself. He used the towel to wipe the steam from the mirror. His reflection smiled back at him. Jennifer was indeed a beautiful woman. He closed his eyes as he recalled the scent of her perfume, the way the sunlight brought out the golden strains of her hair. He pictured himself caressing her face. He opened his eyes and saw the face of a killer.


	3. Chapter 3

Echoes of Morgan

By M. Willow

**Chapter Three **

"Wake up, buddy. Wake up."

Starsky could feel the light touch of his partner's hand on his face. He could hear the panic as Hutch began to shake him. He could see the bright glare of the sun streaming into his room. He sat up in bed, his eyes looking around the unfamiliar room.

"Hutch. What…"

Hutch let out a relived breath. "Scared me, Gordo. Had a hard time waking you again. I was about to call the nurse."

Starsky grabbed his head. "Gotta headache. Where am I?"

"In the hospital," Hutch said with concern. "Don't you remember?"

"Hospital." He sat up in the bed, his eyes scanning the room. It was indeed a hospital, but the last thing he remembered was looking into the dead eyes of a young woman--a woman who was eerily familiar.

"Oh, my god," he said quickly. "The girl. The dead girl. I…I…"

Hutch sat on the bed. "Starsk…."

"Hutch, what happened to me?"

Hutch looked worried. He grabbed Starsky hand before answering. "You passed out after you saw the girl. I took you to the hospital. They were pretty sure it was heat exhaustion and they released you. I took you home. I gave you something to eat and Jennifer stopped by. You went into the bathroom to take a shower. Didn't come out for a while so I went in and found you passed out on the floor. I called an ambulance and rushed you back here." Hutch reached for the call button. "I'm gonna get the doc in here."

Starsky fought to control his breathing. It was almost like the panic attacks he suffered when it was dark only this time he was disoriented. He remembered seeing the dead girl and then something else. He shook his head as he tried to recall the details of the day. Something had happened after seeing the dead girl and he didn't remember any of it.

He looked up when the doctor entered the room. He remembered Dr. Rickert from earlier in the day. At least he thought it was the same day.

"I heard you had a relapsed, detective." The doctor said as he took his pulse.

"Relapse?"

"Yes, you passed out again. So now we're running more tests. I don't think it's your heart, but we'll be checking that just in case."

Starsky looked up at the doctor. "There's nothing wrong with me. Just the heat and I didn't drink enough water. That's all."

The doctor locked eyes with a very worried looking Hutch. "We still need to run some test. Your body has been through a lot and we need to be sure it's not something else. Give us a few days."

But he didn't want to stay. He was prepared to protest when Hutch cut in. "Let them run the test. We've got to be sure you're okay."

Starsky looked at the frightened look on Hutch's face. He settled back in the bed. He had no choice.

"Run your test. I ain't goin' nowhere."

Starsky was sent home a few days later with a clean bill of health. They couldn't find anything wrong with him nor explain the amnesia. Starsky's memory of the time after seeing the body had not returned. Hutch stood at the door of his partner's room. Starsky lay on his back clutching a book. The light was on making it easy for Hutch to check on him. He thought of turning it off, but Starsky had insisted the light remain on all night claiming that it would wake him if he came in and turned it off. The dark-haired detective seemed to be sleeping peacefully, but Hutch was worried. His sixth sense was on overdrive. He wouldn't leave him for even a second. Something was happening— something dark and sinister. Hutch could feel it in the deep recesses of his mind. Feel it the way he had when Morgan Harlow had nearly driven his partner over the edge. Hutch vowed he would stop whatever was happening to his friend. It was his job to look after Starsky. He was glad that Dobey had granted him leave until Starsky returned. No way was he going to let anything happen to him this time.

Two days later both detectives returned to work. Starsky had insisted that Hutch go home citing the need for privacy. Hutch was prepared to protest when he remembered Jennifer and wondered if the reason Starsky needed privacy was because he and Jennifer were more than friends. He wouldn't blame his partner for keeping it a secret in light of Kira. Still it hurt that the open communication they'd once shared was gone because he couldn't keep his pants on. He had reluctantly returned home vowing to fix the rift that still existed between them.

The bar was filled with smoke as the blonde sang a song that hadn't been popular for at least thirty years. It was a typical retro bar with girls hired to dance with the male patrons. The men who populated the bar had been young when the song had been popular. Now they clung to the fragments of youth as they listened to her sultry rendition of Night and Day.

Soon the song ended and the blonde came over to his table. He knew she would come. He'd been shamelessly flirting with her throughout the evening. He knew a hungry woman when he saw one and this one was in full hunger mode. She was looking for someone to wipe away the dismal life she lead. Someone to remind her she was still young and alive and not just the fantasy of men who would never taste the nectar of youth again.

The blonde took a seat next to him and put her hand on his thigh. "Why don't we go somewhere," she whispered.

He kissed her oblivious to the people around them. He could feel his body responding to her as his tongue darted into her mouth. He felt her hand climb up his thigh and he did nothing to stop her. He heard the clink of glasses, the shuffling of feet as couples moved to the dance floor. Still the kiss continued, deepening, becoming maddeningly passionate. She broke the kiss and stood, offering her hand. He took it standing, his pants painfully tight. She turned and he followed her out into the night, the knife safely hidden from the prying eyes of the patrons within.

Starsky awakened with a start. The dream had been so real. He thought of the blonde woman. She was beautiful and the effects she had on him still lingered. "I'm in need of a very cold shower," he said as he got up. He wondered what time it was so he stole a glance at his bedside clock and discovered it was nine o'clock. The clock has to be wrong. He put his shoes on and padded to his living room. He froze when he saw the clock. It was nine o'clock He sat heavily on the couch, his body shaking. It felt like it was no more than two o'clock. True the shades were drawn, but no way could it be nine o'clock. No way had he slept an incredible twelve hours.

Starsky heard a knock at the door. It had to be Hutch and he was late again.


	4. Chapter 4

Echoes of Morgan

By M. Willow

**Chapter Four**

Hutch looked at the building that housed the Satin Doll nightclub. It was a gray building located in a shabby neighborhood. Hutch could imagine the building forty years ago when the neighborhood had been filled with nightclubs and women dressed in silk and lace dashed from limousines. He could practically here the sounds of cleats tapping against the sidewalk, smell the scent of channel number five. But that was long ago. The clubs that dotted this once thriving neighborhood had long disappeared. Now the large marquee on the building only reminded one of the dismal qualities of the neighborhood.

Hutch headed for the alley and flashed his badge at the two police officers standing guard. The body had been found by the janitor early that morning. The janitor recognized her as one of the singers who worked for the club. Hutch braced himself as he headed down the alley. It was always difficult to see the results of a senseless murder, but this one was different. This one may be related to the other death. Both women were described as young and blonde.

Hutch looked up as Starsky pulled into the alley. Earlier Hutch had arrived at Starsky's apartment to find his friend still in his robe. Starsky had suggested that he meet Hutch at the club once he'd been informed that another body had been found. Hutch waited for his partner. Starsky flashed his badge and walked towards Hutch. He looked drawn, not tired, but like the energy was slowly being taken from his body. Starsky came closer and Hutch could see the effort he put into trying to act normal.

"What do we have?" Starsky said as he approached Hutch.

"Another body. Same M.O."

They locked eyes. "We got a serial killer on our hands," they said in unison.

Hutch watched as Starsky looked at the building. He seemed lost in thought as his eyes scanned the expanse of the alley. It was subtle. In fact only Hutch would have recognized the troubled expression on his friends face, but the site of the building disturbed Starsky for some reason.

"You okay, Gordo?" Hutch inquired.

Starsky didn't answer. Instead his eyes came to rest on the small form lying covered in the alley. He kneeled down and for an instant his eyes met Hutch's. It was as if he were asking permission to remove the sheet that covered the victim. Hutch nodded his head.

"It's not a pretty site. She was stabbed numerous times in the stomach."

Starsky slowly pulled back the sheet, his eyes darkening as her face was revealed. He took a deep breath as he looked at her.

"My god, what have I done?"

Hutch let the words register. Had he heard correctly? He watched as Starsky stared into the eyes of the girl, his hands shaking, his breaths coming quickly.

Hutch kneeled next to his partner, placing an arm around his shoulders.

"Starsk."

Starsky stood abruptly, his expression a mixture of shock and horror.

"Did anyone see who she left with?" he asked, his voice hard.

"Starsk, take it easy…"

"Did anyone see?" Starsky grabbed Hutch by his collar, desperation in the eyes.

"The manager saw him, but all he could remember was the guy was dark and medium height. No information on hair color. The guy was wearing a hat." Hutch paused, regarding his friend. "Gordo, take it easy. What's going on? You know this girl?"

Starsky met Hutche's gaze. Hutch noticed the slight tremor in his hands, the rigid posture. The eyes that seemed to be looking into another world.

"I have never met this woman in my life," he said, turning, and headed for his car. Hutch ran after him, but the Torino was already dashing down the street.


	5. Chapter 5

Echoes of Morgan

By M. Willow

**Chapter Five**

"The first victim was named Estelle Robertson. She was thirty years old. The second was Karen Waters. Karen was thirty-four. She had worked at the Satin Doll about a year," Jennifer said, as Dobey, Hutch, and Starsky listened.

They were in the captain's office and Jennifer was giving a report on what they had discovered so far. Hutch kept his eyes on Jennifer as she spoke, but he could feel the tension emanating from his friend. Starsky was unusually quiet, avoiding eye contact with him. It was unnerving. They had always spoken with their eyes. Hutch moved uncomfortably in his chair. He was still puzzled over the statement Starsky had uttered in the alley. "My god, what have I done?" Starsky had said it with such sorrow and then ran to his car before Hutch could intercede. Hutch had hoped to corner his friend once he got back to the squad room, but Dobey had halted that idea when he called all three detectives to his office.

Hutch attempted to make eye contact again, but his friend sat rigidly in his chair, his eyes focused on Jennifer. Hutch startled when Dobey pounded his fist on his desk. "

It's a damn serial killer. "Some freak is going around killing blonde women," the captain said, wiping his brow with a handkerchief.

"Blonde girls," Starsky said distractingly.

"So what do both girls have in common other than being blonde?" Dobey asked.

"Both hope to become actresses. They were trying to earn enough money so they could go to Hollywood one day," Jennifer replied.

"I've written a profile on the possible perp," Jennifer continued. All eyes were on her as she continued.

"He's young, late twenties to mid-thirties. He's white and possibly a professional. He believes these women are immoral. Probably goes after blondes become he was hurt by a blonde once. It's like he's killing her over and over again. Punishing her as he was once punished. This guy may believe his life was destroyed because of her."

"What makes you say that, Jennifer? I mean, we know nothing about this guy." Hutch asked.

Jennifer looked at the men in the room before answering. "In a previous life I worked as a profiler for the Boston police department and I'm a licensed psychiatrist.."

The room was silent as the information sunk in.

"That's why I've decided to assign her to this case full-time. I want her on the streets with you two." Dobey added. "And her profiler abilities don't leave this room. You understand? People still believe that profiling is some sort of hocus-pocus trick. Something for the sideshows, but Jennifer's record speaks for itself."

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't talk about the psychiatrist part too. People get nervous around me when they know."

"Won't say a word." Hutch said, looking at Starsky. Starsky didn't seem to care. He seemed only interested in the case.

Starsky cleared his throat. "So you say this killer was hurt by a woman who looks like the victims?

"Yes. And he will continue to kill until he's caught."

"He's a clever son of a bitch," the captain added. "Never leaves a clue. Knows how to cover his tracks."

Hutch leaned forward in his chair, his eyes scanning his companions, "We've only had two murders, Cap'n. Might not be a serial killer."

Dobey sat back in his chair and wiped his brow.

"He's gonna kill again. It'll be another blonde, thirties and it will be tonight," Starsky said his voice barely above a whisper.

Hutch looked at Starsky. Saw the determined set of his eyes, the sweat glistening on his face. Starsky locked eyes with him and for an instant it was as if he were looking at a different man. Hutch felt the claw of fear trace down his spine.

Dobey cleared his throat, "You three get out of here. I don't want another death on our hands. Find this bastard."

Starsky stood and left the room, Hutch and Jennifer following.

The cafeteria was abuzz with the sounds and smells of the lunch hour. Hutch sat across from Jennifer who appeared lost in thought as she moved her fork around the salad. Starsky had returned home complaining of a growing headache. He had rebuffed all attempts by Hutch to follow him home so Hutch had agreed to have lunch with Jennifer. At least they could compare thoughts on the serial killer.

"So how did you become a profiler?" he asked.

"It was simple. My parents insisted that I become a doctor so I went to medical school and became a psychiatrist. I grew up and wanted to pursue my real dreams of becoming a cop. I walked away from my practice and some very disappointed parents and became a cop. My training as a psychiatrist gave me special insight into the minds of criminals allowing me to quickly move up and here I am."

Hutch was impressed. He had also spent a few years in medical school eventually leaving to become a cop. He decided not to mention it. It was a long time ago and he didn't want to discuss his family. He had more important things on his mind.

"So you're really Dr. Jennifer Reese?" Hutch asked, sipping his coffee, his eyes meeting the brown eyes of Jennifer.

"Yes, but I don't use the title. It just doesn't describe me. I'm a cop, plan and simple."

"Okay, Doc, and I want tell a living soul."

"Good. I only told you because we'll be working together on this case. I didn't want you questioning my methods when I start describing this guy."

"So you really think it's a guy who's killing because he hates the woman who destroyed his life?"

"Yes. But you have to remember one thing. Nothing is certain. Profiling is based on averages. The women look alike, almost like sisters. That indicates that he's killing the same woman over and over again. It could also mean a lot of other things."

Hutch sat back in his chair. "When does it stop?"

"When we catch him or he stops hurting."

Jennifer pushed the salad around in her plate. Hutch took a sip of his coffee. There were two women who looked so much alike they could have been sisters. But Hutch knew there was a third woman—a woman who drove her car into an icy lake almost a year ago.

"What have I done?" The words echoed in Hutch's mind.


	6. Chapter 6

Echoes of Morgan

By M. Willow

**Chapter Six**

Starsky sat watching the news. It was late. He had spoken to Hutch at least three times during the evening. He vowed to let the phone ring the next time he called. He simply couldn't share what he was thinking. He had seen two dead girls who looked like Morgan in the last few days. He had dreamed about their deaths on the same night they died. His mind rejected the notion that he had somehow become psychic. He may believe in ghost and goblins, but psychic powers were in another sphere. He still believed in the logic of the universe. One in which, a cop, sleeping safely in his bed, did not witness the death of a young woman, especially a cop who was afraid of the dark. No way would he leave his apartment in the middle of the night. Still, there were the blackouts. Starsky couldn't describe them any other way. Whole sections of his life were missing. He hadn't slept over twelve hours. He knew it in his heart. Somehow he had killed two women and couldn't recall doing it. It was the only explanation.

Starsky went to the kitchen and removed the leftover chicken from the refrigerator. He sat down and ate it hungrily. Finishing the plate of kitchen, he pushed the plate to the side. Hutch would call and he would not answer. He could always tell him that he was on a date. He couldn't give his friend answers anyway.

Their lovemaking was passionate. They had been at it for hours now. Starsky felt like he was consuming her essence as he made love to her. He'd met her at a disco. She had been nursing a drink at the bar when he approached. The attraction was immediate, almost animalistic in nature. She lived only a few blocks away so he took her home. They almost hadn't made it inside before he ripped her flimsy red, dress off and started kissing her deeply, his hands exploring her body, her hands running down the length of his body. Now they were in bed and he was inside her. Her brown eyes met his as he thrust. They came at the same time as his hand reached under the pillow and grasped the cold edge of the knife.

Starsky awoke to the sound of water dripping. His mind rejected the unfamiliarity of the sound as he snuggled deeper under the covers. He tried to go back to sleep. He was tired, but the constant drip of the water became irritating. Rolling onto his back, he opened his eyes to the sight of a single, bare bulb directly above the bed and the comforting sight of the sun streaming in through the open window. A wave of dizziness overcame him as he suddenly sat up and took in the unfamiliar surroundings. The room was simple with white walls, and a single dresser covered with cosmetics of various colors. He was stunned. The last thing he remembered was sitting in his kitchen eating left-over fried chicken, yet now he was in the bedroom of someone he didn't know.

Starsky looked around the room and saw his clothes lying in a heap on the floor. He stood as the room started to whirl again. He held onto the side of the bed until the room stopped moving then staggered across the floor. He picked up his clothes and turned back to the bed. It was then that he saw the dead eyes of a blonde woman lying on the floor next to the bed. Her body was covered with blood. Starsky looked down at himself and saw the blood covering his body. It was like the color of the blood was seeping into his pores. All he could see was red, the red of blood, the red that he had created.

His head hurt. That was the first thing Starsky was aware of as he stretched his body. It hurt like someone was pounding him with a hammer. He was sitting at his table, the empty plate sitting nearby. Confusingly he looked around the room. It was his kitchen yet only moments ago he had awakened to find himself in an unfamiliar bedroom and the body of a woman, covered with blood was lying on the floor. Now he was just sitting at his table--not lying down as if he had been asleep, but sitting straight up, staring out the window.

Starsky looked out the window and saw the yellow-orange color of the sun. It looked like the sun was going down. He stood confused by the site of the sun. Why was the sun going down? He remembered closing the shades the minute he got home. It had been dark. Now the sun was going down and the shades were up. He looked at his watch and was startled to discover that almost twenty-four hours had passed since he sat at the table. It was ten o'clock when he sat down. Now it was seven o'clock. Had he been sitting here all this time staring out the window?

Hutch looked at the body. It was another young, blonde woman in her thirties. Her name was Lois Kendal and she had been found by her best friend only a few hours ago. Hutch turned from the body and returned to the room where Jennifer sat comforting a very distraught young woman. He watched as a team of cops headed for the bedroom to gather more evidence.

Lois had been Kathryn Howell's best friend since grade school. Kathryn was thirty-three with large brown eyes and thin, determined lips.

Hutch again wished that his partner could be here, but Starsky had called him this morning saying that he had put in a late night with a very attractive brunette and would not be in. Hutch had covered for Starsky telling Dobey that his partner was not feeling well. The captain had harrumphed and then assigned Jennifer to accompany him in questioning a few witnesses from the last murder. They had spent the day questioning witness and were on their way home when the call came in--another body had been found. Now Hutch listened as Jennifer questioned the witness about the previous night.

"Kathryn, you said that you and Lois frequented this club almost every night?"

"Yes. Lois likes it there. I mean liked it there. I don't care for it much. The guys there are just too pretentious."

"So you said she left with this guy?"

"Yeah, she use to do that a lot. She said if men could do it, why not women?"

"What did the guy look like?" Hutch asked.

"Real attractive. He had curly hair, dark blue eyes. Real tight abs. Kinda tall, but not real tall."

Hutch suppressed a shudder and avoided looking at Jennifer.

"You seem like you really looked at the guy," Jennifer said.

"Yeah, he was real cute." She said smiling at the memory, and then the seriousness of the moment came back. Her friend was lying dead in the other room and the man she had described was most likely her murderer.

"What else do you remember about him?" Jennifer probed.

"The walk. He swaggered. Real confident, like he knew how he affected women."

Jennifer locked eyes with Hutch. For an instant, it was like he was reading her mind. The woman was describing Starsky, his best friend, the man he trusted with his life. But Starsky had been home in the arms of a brunette. And Starsky would never kill anyone.

"Would you recognize him if you saw him again?" Jennifer asked.

Kathryn took a deep breath. Hutch found himself holding his breath as he waited for the reply.

"I will never forget his face as long as I live."

The answer hung in the air. Jennifer once again looked at Hutch, the statement in her eyes as clear as words in a book.

"Think you can describe him to a sketch artist?"

"I can go one better," Kathryn said. "Give me a piece of paper and I can draw him myself. I'm an artist."

The coroner entered the room along with more cops. Hutch looked at Jennifer and then turned, quickly exiting the room.

Hutch raced through the streets. He stopped at a telephone and made arrangements with Huggy for a car, than quickly got back in the car and headed towards Starsky's. He had to get to Starsky's house before Jennifer could get a positive identification. He couldn't believe what he was thinking. He believed his best friend was a murderer simply because he had asked a question in the ally. "My god. What have I done?" The words haunted him, clung to him, seeping into his body like the icy claw of death.

Hutch wondered what he would do when he got to Starsky's apartment. Would he sit down and drink a cold beer and casually ask if he had murdered girls who looked like Morgan? Would he crash through the door and handcuff him and commit him to a life in prison? Or would he give his life to protect him?

Hutch placed the mars light on the car. Speed was essential.

Starsky was still sitting at the kitchen table when Hutch rushed it. "Get a few things, throw them in a suitcase. We gotta get out of here."

Starsky stood and looked confusingly at his friend. "What are ya talking, about Hutch?"

Hutch quickly walked to Starsky's bedroom, went to his closet and pulled some clothes out. Then he grabbed a suitcase and shoved them inside.

"Come on buddy. No time to waste. Jennifer knows."

"Knows what?" Starsky demanded.

"Tell you on the way to the cabin."

"What…What…" Starsky started. But Hutch grabbed his arm and ushered him out the door. In minutes flat they were racing down the streets. Starsky still trying to find out what was happening. Soon the answer became apparent as the dispatcher announced the man hunt for the serial killer, David Starsky who was considered armed and dangerous. The dispatcher went on to announce that the murderer was most likely in the company of detective Kenneth Hutchinson.

Starsky looked dumbfounded at Hutch. "Then it's true. I really did kill those girls. Oh god, I killed them."

Hutch spared a glance at Starsky who sat trembling, his hands covering his eyes as the tears fell.

"No time for that. I called Huggy after I found out. He's got a car waiting for us. We just have to go up a few blocks. The car is in the alley."

Starsky looked up. "Stop the car, Hutch. You gotta take me in. I killed….I killed two girls."

"Three. We found the body of another girl…"

"In a bedroom," Starsky continued. "She was lying on the floor next to her bed, a knife sticking out of her stomach. She'd been stabbed."

Hutch took a deep breath as he concentrated on the road. He spared a glance at the rear view mirror and pulled to the side.

"Come on, Starsky. Get out of the car. We gotta ditch this car."

"No, Hutch. You've gotta let me go. You've got to…"

Hutch grabbed Starsky's arm. Tears were starting to rush down his face. "I'll never let you go. You're my best friend, my brother…god Starsky, how could you even think…."

Starsky grabbed Hutch's arm. Starsky was crying now, the tears running freely down his face. He didn't try to hide them. "I killed three women who looked like Morgan. I deserve to be punished for it. I can't, can't go on. You can't ask me that. You've got to let me go."

"But you didn't kill them Starsky. You wouldn't. It's not in you."

"But it is. Don't forget that I tried to kill you once."

"You mean that night you almost shot me. That was an accident."

"No, the time that voodoo priest put a spell on me. Only falling off a cliff prevented me from killing you."

Hutch remembered. The voodoo priest had somehow given Starsky a drug that made him attack him on the cliff. Hutch had fought desperately for his life, knocking his friend away. Finally both of them fell off the cliff into the water beneath. It was then that the spell was broken.

"If I could try and kill you, a man that means more to me than life it self, what would I do to someone I don't know?"

The question hung in the silence of the car. In the background Hutch could hear the sounds of sirens as they moved closer to them. He had to make a decision now if he hoped to save his friend. He wiped his face, he felt the familiar hands touch his shoulder, he saw Starsky reach for the door and his decision was made in that instant. He slammed his fist into the side of Starsky's face. He watched as Starsky crumbled into unconsciousness. There had to be an explanation. He would not sit idly while his friend faced a possible death sentence.

Hutch drove the car into the alley and saw the blue chevy that would take them to an uncertain future. He pulled Starsky's unconscious body from the car and put him in the back seat. He looked around. The streets were filled with people. The smell of the city permeated the air. Hutch looked up as the sun began its decent. They should be at the cabin by nightfall.


	7. Chapter 7

Echoes of Morgan

By M. Willow

**Chapter Seven**

Starsky regained consciousness slowly. He felt his body sway, felt the warm breeze caress his face. It was starting to become a habit, waking up, not knowing where he was. This time he was afraid to open his eyes. What would he find, another dead girl? He struggled to recall the day. He remembered the bedroom with the dead girl who looked like Morgan. He remembered sitting at the kitchen table looking out the window. And then, suddenly he remembered the rest of the day. How Hutch had arrived. The mad dash to escape. His pleading to let him go and Hutch insistence that he was no murderer, and then his world dissolved with a resounding crash now he was here and the breeze could only mean one thing. He opened his eyes and saw two things at once— Hutch driving the car and the inky blackness outside.

Time stood still. He told himself that he was safe in the car. The darkness could not touch him in the car. Not with Hutch there. Not with the doors locked. Starsky held his breath as the fear threatened to overtake him. He counted the seconds, willing his breath to come under control. His body was shaking. He repeated the mantra in his mind. He was in the car. Hutch was here. The darkness couldn't get in. It had worked the other night. The night he had worked late. He had been able to ride in the car and get home. It had been scary, but he had managed to get inside before the panic attack could seize him. But now the blackness was more complete. No streetlights lit the road. No houses with comforting lights to remind him that he was safe. He felt the car slow as it approached a clearing with trees that made road impossibly darker. And then the car stopped and Hutch looked at him, his face in shadows.

"We're here, buddy," he heard him say. "Gonna figure this out. Find out who's doing this to you?"

Starsky held his breath as he watched Hutch open the car door and step into darkness. He wanted to scream out, to stop him from leaving him alone with the darkness. But he couldn't speak. His breaths came in short burst as the confines of the car seemed to disappear and the blackness of the night enveloped him. He commanded himself to close his eyes and think of a place with light. And then Hutch opened the door and the night ripped through Starsky and the scream that he had been holding escaped.

Hutch noticed when Starsky regained consciousness. His friend had not been unconscious that long, but it chilled him to think that he may have injured his partner. But then Starsky had awakened and sat in the car silently. He'd continued to drive, heading for a cabin that Huggy found.

Hutch pulled the car into the driveway and turned off the ignition. Starsky was sitting quietly in the back seat. He stared ahead as if in shock. Hutch got out of the car. When Starsky did not get out, Hutch came around and opened his door. Starsky screamed, the sound echoing through the night. He was babbling, "I can't, I can't the dark. Oh my god, the dark. Hutch help me. Help me."

Starsky was hysterical. Hutch was grateful that the cabin was isolated. No one could hear the screams, but it chilled him. Hutch watched as his best friend started kicking, desperately clinging to the car.. He pulled him from the car, Starsky pleading for him to turn the lights on. Hutch couldn't understand. His friend was in the mist of a full panic attack. Hutch tried to recall his medical training, but all he could think of was getting him inside the house. Hutch was dragging him at this point, listening to his screams and his frantic efforts to get away. Hutch pulled him inside the cabin and turned on the lights. By this time Starsky was almost hyperventilating and Hutch realized that he had to calm him down quickly before the panic attack could become worse. Starsky fell to the floor and rolled into a fetal position, Hutch still holding him. Hutch rocked him, telling him to calm down, keeping his voice even and soothing. Slowly Starsky's breaths returned to normal.

Hutch sat in the cabin watching the slow, even breaths of his best friend as he slept. Every light in the cabin was on and Hutch sat in the chair watching, waiting for the signs of hysteria to return. But they would not, not as long as he kept the lights on. He wondered again how his partner had managed to keep his phobia a secret. He thought back over the past few months at the number of times Starsky had canceled a late night evening saying he had a date. Now he realized it had all been a lie. Starsky had been suffering while he had sat idly yet again.

"How many times?" Hutch said, as he hung his head and tried to keep the tears from falling. He had let Starsky down so many times in the past few years. He had slept with Kira. He had let Gunther nearly end his partner's life. And he had let the Harlow family drive Starsky insane. It was a harsh reality, but as he looked at the figure of his sleeping partner he faced the reality that only insanity could drive Starsky to murder and he had allowed it. A psychiatrist would say that Starsky was trying to kill the woman who still haunted his dreams. Three women. All dead. All look-alikes for Morgan Harlow. Still, Hutch clung to the hope that he was wrong. Starsky could never kill anyone. It's just not in him.

Hutch stood abruptly dropping the cup of coffee to the floor. Starsky opened his eyes when he heard the crash. Both men locked eyes, the hurt between them palpable.

"The first time it happened, I thought it was a fluke. It was late. I was out of bread so I went to the store."

Starsky was sitting on the couch staring into the fireplace as he spoke. Hutch sat protectively close to him, his hand on Starsky's back. "I was a little jumpy when I started for the store, but I ignored it. I don't know. It had been a rough day so I just shrugged it off." Starsky paused, closing his eyes. He couldn't meet his friend's eyes, not yet, maybe never. "When I came back, I couldn't get out of the car. For some reason I felt safe in the car so I stayed there all night."

"Why didn't you tell me? I could have helped?"

Starsky stood and turned his back to Hutch as he spoke, "And what would you have done? Worry? I was already doin' enough of that for the both of us."

Starsky paced the floor. He couldn't bear to see the hurt and betrayal he knew had to be in Hutch's eyes. Hutch took a deep breath before voicing the next question.

"Starsk, what do you remember about the murders?"

Starsky stopped pacing. He knew the question was coming, but the thought of answering sent chills through his body. Starsky sat in the chair next to the fireplace. It was time to face what he had become. He looked at Hutch, his voice steady as he spoke. "Feeling the knife in my hand." He closed his eyes before continuing. "Making love to the last girl."

Hutch locked eyes with Starsky and the room seemed to dissolve around them. They could hear the crackle of fire and smell the scent of wood. Outside the crickets surrounded the house in a wall of sound. Yet in that moment their eyes communicated the fear, the sadness, the love, and sacrifice they would endure for each other. Starsky knew he was unworthy of that love. He was a monster, a killer of innocent women. He had no right to love. He had no right to live. He had killed three women and he had destroyed Hutch. Hutch was a wanted man now, but his only crime had been in loving him.

"What kind of monster am I, Hutch? I walked into that club and picked up a girl for the purpose of murdering her. How could I do somethin' like that? What kind of monster am I?"

Starsky put his hands over his eyes and his body started to shake as tears streamed down his face. He would lose everything now and Hutch would suffer because of him. He felt the comforting touch of Hutch as his friend took him in his arms. He heard the soft reassurance in his friend's voice. "Me and thee. Nothing will ever change that. Me and thee."

"You didn't kill those girls. Someone else did and we're going to find out who?"

"But Hutch. I remember being with them. I remember the scent of their perfume. Making love to the last one. I remember it, Hutch?"

It was early morning. They were sitting in the small kitchen having breakfast and Starsky had just described the last murder. Huggy had had the kitchen fully stocked so they were able to have ham and eggs and Hutch even found something that was actually healthy. Now both men sat at the table talking about what had transpired.

Hutch sat silently for a while. "But, do you remember actually killing them?"

Starsky stared at his friend for a moment. He remembered details only the killer could know, but he never remembered actually killing them.

"Listen, Gordo. You told me about all three murders. You told me what they were wearing. Where you found them. Even the feel of the knife. But how did you feel when you killed them? What did they look like when they took their final breaths?"

"Don't know." Starsky said confusingly. "I don't remember."

"Then explain to me how you could remember the color dress the last woman was wearing and not remember killing her. We found the body on the floor. How did she get there? Did you put her there after you murdered her? Did she fall to the floor after she was dead? Did you kill her while she was lying on the floor? Did you make love to her on the floor and then kill her?" Hutch was speaking fast, the questions coming too fast for Starsky to process.

"I don't know, I don't know, I don't know," Starsky shouted. "I can't remember anything after we made love."

Hutch moved forward in his seat, his eyes meeting Starsky's. "Tell me how she felt. How you felt."

The color rose in Starsky's face, his breathing slowed. "I remember tearing the dress. It was very sexy, kinda see through. Hutch, it was intense. We barely made it to the bedroom."

"What happened when you got to the bedroom?"

"What do ya think happened," Starsky said, clearly embarrassed.

"I mean after. You said you came while the knife was in your hand."

"Hutch, I can't…I can't talk about this. I killed a girl. What can I say?"

"You can tell me what happened after you touched the knife."

Starsky stared at his friend. "I woke up and she was lying on the floor dead and I was covered with blood."

Hutch sat back in his chair. "You didn't kill anyone."

"That's crazy, Hutch." Starsky said, raking a hand through his unruly hair.

"Is it? You remember a few years ago when we were protecting Joe Durniak. The guy that killed him actually remembered his wife being gunned down. The funny thing was the guy didn't have a wife and didn't remember who he actually was."

Starsky remembered the case well. It was an organization that actually brainwashed people into killing for revenge. In the end the leader of the organization died in a helicopter crash and the rest of the people were imprisoned. Or so they hoped. In reality, they would never be certain if they had found everyone involved. And they would never be certain of how a man could be so brainwashed that he had complete memories of a wife who had never existed.

Starsky smiled. "Hutch if it's true than I didn't murder anybody. I'm innocent. Somebody just…"

"Placed the memories of the women in your mind. Then they hired somebody else to do the actual killing." Hutch added.

"Why not just get me to kill the women?"

"Don't know. Maybe they tried and you just wouldn't do it."

Starsky sighed. "When did they get to me? The other guys were held in a compound when they used the brainwashing technique on them. You would have known if I had been taken for any length of time."

"Yeah. Unless they started almost a year ago. When you were being visited by Morgan. Maybe the old lady was hedging her bets. In case one plan didn't work. Try another."

Starsky recalled the last statement the old lady made to him almost five months ago:

"You will suffer as I have suffered. You will live as I will live. And one day you will beg for death and I shall not grant it."

"You're right. They coulda taken me at night and brought me back. The chances of somebody lookin' out the window in the middle of the night would be slim."

"I don't think you went anywhere at night. They couldn't take the chance that you would be seen in public. That's why they gave you a phobia. No way would you go out at night. I think these memories were placed in your head and then acted out later."

"But how? I dreamed about each murder. How did they know I'd dream about any particular murder? Plus I recognized all of the girls."

Hutch thought for a while. "What if they used some kinda trigger. Could be anything, a telephone call sometime during the day. As for the women—all of them were hoping for careers as actresses. What if the women were hired for what they thought were acting gigs…"

"And the scenes were acted out and filmed for me to see." Starsky continued.

"Then later all they would have to do is kill the girl and trigger your memory of the incident."

"Which would explain why I can't actually remember killing the women." Starsky added.

Starsky stood. "So simple. Janet Harlow has the money and the connections."

"To create a plan B." Hutch added.

"In case plan A didn't work," Starsky finished.

"Now how do we prove it?" Starsky asked.

"We find the films."

Starsky sat down, his dark blue eyes meeting the lighter blue eyes of Hutch. "That ain't gonna be easy. They're not about to just leave incriminating evidence layin' around."

"You've got to remember where they took you for the original brainwashing. I don't think it was your apartment. They wouldn't want to take the chance of leaving something behind or having me show up."

Starsky shook his head. "And how do you propose getting me to remember where they took me?"

"Simple. We get Jennifer to hypnotize you."

Jennifer Reese was alone in her bedroom when she heard a soft thud coming from her living room. She quickly opened her eyes and sat up. The sun bathed the room in a soft light and she could hear the normal sounds of summer—a next door neighbor mowing his lawn, a school bus in the distance. Maybe I imagined it, she thought. She looked at her clock. It was nine o'clock. Dobey had told her that she could come in later in the afternoon so she'd planned to sleep late. She lay back down. Probably the remnants of a nightmare, she thought. And then she heard the sound of footsteps and knew she wasn't imagining it. She grabbed the gun that sat on her night stand and stood putting on her robe.

"Come on in," she said confidently. "Your mother will cry tomorrow."

Her response was met with silence and then a voice barely above a whisper, "Jennifer, it's me, Hutch."

Jennifer kept the gun in her hand as she approached the door. She saw the blond detective standing in her living room. "What the hell do you think you're doing," she demanded.

"Trying to save the life of my best friend," Hutch answered.

"By helping a murderer and breaking in my apartment? What were you going to do, take me to him so he can kill me?"

"He didn't do it, Jennifer. If you would just listen…"

"The only thing I'm going to do is arrest your ass, and find your murdering partner before he kills again."

Hutch moved closer only to see her raise the gun and release the safety. He stopped. "Just hear me out. Please. I had to break in. They're looking for us everywhere. I've got nowhere else to go. You're my only hope."

"Sit down, and keep your hands where I can see them."

Hutch sat on the couch. "Talk," she commanded. Hutch told her everything.

Starsky paced the floor. Hutch had left over three hours ago and hadn't returned. If the police found Hutch they may shoot on site. Hutch would never lead the police to him, he'd die first. He was also concerned about Hutch approaching Jennifer. I should have told him to get Dr. Crabtree, he thought. He couldn't understand why he hadn't thought of that in the first place. Now Hutch was putting his life in danger by approaching a fellow officer, an officer trained in the use of guns. Starsky shuddered. He wanted to go to Hutch, but he had promised he wouldn't leave the cabin. At any rate, he didn't have a car and the cabin was miles from their nearest neighbor. Starsky paced until he heard the sound of an approaching car. Hutch hopefully. He was a dead man if it was anyone else.

Starsky went to the window and peered out. He gave a sigh of relief when he saw Hutch getting out the car with Jennifer. He stood back as the two approached the house.

Starsky watched as Jennifer entered the cabin. She looked at him, her eyes unreadable. The room was silent as Jennifer continued to stare at him. It was unnerving.

"Your partner believes in you. I'm not certain," she finally said.

For the first time Starsky noticed a slight trace of an accent. Something foreign.

"I'm a licensed psychiatrist. I'm therefore bound under doctor patient confidentiality. While I'm here you will call me Dr. Reese. Hutch is not bound under the same laws. Do you want him here?"

"I trust him with my life," Starsky answered.

"Then let's get started," she said taking a seat on the chair by the fireplace. She reached into her purse and handed Hutch a sachet of leaves. Prepare this then return.

Hutch looked at the leaves. "What is it?"

"It's tea, silly. Prepare two cups and bring it here."

Hutch left the room, leaving Starsky with Jennifer.

"You really think you can help me?"

"Yes. I have a special technique. It's not something you'll see your average psychiatrist use, but it's effective."

Starsky moved a nervous hand through his hair. "Never been hypnotized before."

"Not that you remember," Jennifer added.

Starsky realized the truth of the statement. Brainwashing on this level had to involve some sort of hypnosis. He wondered how long it had taken them to convince them that he had killed three women. It chilled him to think that he may still be a murderer no matter how repulsive it was to him. He thought about Hutch who had so much faith in him. He was practically standing there with the smoking gun and Hutch still believed in his innocence.

He looked at Jennifer and asked, "What do you want me to do?"

The tea was tied into tiny sachets. Hutch placed two bags in the steaming water and noticed the slight aroma of cinnamon and mint. He wondered what was in the tea. It chilled him that it could be a drug. Still, Jennifer was a trusted cop. He had no reason to believe that she would deliberately give his friend something that could harm him.

Hutch returned to the room carrying two steaming cups of tea. Starsky and Jennifer were speaking quietly when he entered the room. It was stunning how their relationship had switched from flirtatious banter to the cool professional distance of a doctor and her patient. Starsky looked expectantly at Hutch as he handed Jennifer a cup of tea.

"Give the other to Starsky," she ordered. Hutch handed the cup to Starsky.

"What's in it?" Hutch asked, still holding the cup.

"Tea," she answered.

"Give it to me," Starsky implored. "I trust her."

Hutch saw the truth in the statement. Starsky trusted her and Hutch had no choice. Jennifer was their only hope. Hutch handed the cup to Starsky and took a seat next to him.

"You can't sit there. Get a chair next to me or sit somewhere else in the cabin. Just not in front of me," Jennifer ordered.

Hutch pulled a chair next to Jennifer and sat down.

"You need to know something about my practice. I'm a psychiatrist who has studied techniques which are, how do I put it, considered unorthodox by many in my profession. She took a sip of tea before continuing, "These techniques were learned from a cult who traced their roots back thousands of years to the time of Christ. I prefer not to explain further in that regard. Suffice it to say, the technique I will use will give us results." Jennifer paused, her eyes focused on Hutch.

"Is it safe?" Hutch asked worry evident in his voice.

"Without fail," Jennifer said confidently. "Now drink,"

Starsky took a sip of the tea.

"Drink all of it," she ordered and Starsky drank the hot liquid almost in one gulp.

"I'm going to take him back to when it all started." Jennifer said.

Hutch looked confused. "What do you mean?"

"Back to the night Morgan died," she replied.


	8. Chapter 8

Echoes of Morgan

By M. Willow

**Chapter Eight**

Jennifer turned her eyes toward Starsky and for the first time he noticed her eyes weren't really brown. They were sort of amber like a cat. Why hadn't he noticed before?

"I want you to look at my eyes. Do not turn from them," he heard her say. "Now listen to my voice and follow it back. Follow it back. Back to the moment you met Morgan."

Starsky locked eyes with Jennifer. The amber eyes of a cat. The amber eyes of a cat. It was like he was traveling back and seeing those eyes the entire time. He heard her voice. He saw the eyes—the amber eyes of a cat. He watched as the room faded and he saw only the eyes. Then he heard the soft laughter of a woman and realized he was back at the party and a young blonde woman was walking towards him. He could hear his voice telling the story, yet his mind was seeing the events in fast motion, people were moving faster than the eye could perceive. His body relaxed as he saw the scenes unfold. One moment he was at the party. The next he was in the water, but he couldn't feel the iciness of it this time. He was watcher observing the action as it unfolded.

Starsky saw the action move forward, away from the icy water, away from the hospital. Now he was in bed unable to move and Morgan was standing there with her dead eyes. She was there moving toward him and he could not move. He saw her as she touched his face. He saw her whisper in his ear, but he couldn't feel her hot breath. Time passed and a man entered—a kindly man with hair the color of snow. He stood there, his voice low.

"_She is a young, blonde woman, and you've just killed her detective Starsky," the white-haired man said. _

Starsky watched as another man entered the room. He felt himself lifted and then time passed. He saw the rode as they drove and then he was in a house with a fireplace. The fireplace was blazing as the white-haired man smoked a pipe. He took the pipe from his mouth and the fireplace was replaced by a film. A film showing a young woman in a nightclub. The club looked like something out of an old George Raft movie. The woman was singing an old song but Starsky couldn't hear the music. He saw only the woman. A man approached and put something in his had. It was cold—so cold that it chilled him to hold it. Then the camera moved and the woman stopped singing. She came towards him. Starsky heard his voice telling the series of events. He heard himself say Marcus Welby, saw a fireplace with the fire the color of blood. Saw the blackness in the fireplace then the woman was coming towards him and he heard the graveled voice of the white-haired man: .

_You are that man in the film. _

Time moved and he was back in his room. Passing, passing. Three murders and then a forth, a fifth. Every night the film rolled. Every night he felt the cold metal in his hands.

Starsky was breathing heavily when he heard the command of the amber-eyed woman commanding him to leave the past and return.

He returned as if he floated through time on the amber eyes of Jennifer. When he returned he said one word, "Crabtree." And then he collapsed.

"What the hell did you do to him, Jennifer?"

"Call me Dr. Reese or I'll walk out of here. I have no desire to go to jail with your partner, no matter how much I believe him."

"I don't care what you call yourself, doctor," Hutch shouted. "My best friend is laying unconscious in there for who knows what reason. What's wrong with him?"

"He's sleeping, you idiot," she said tightly.

Hutch stopped shouting, his face incredulous as her words registered.

"Sleeping?"

"Yes. If you would let me explain instead of ranting about my unorthodox practice, you would know that."

"Okay," Hutch said, taking a seat. "Why is he sleeping?"

"The tea I gave him is also a relaxant. He's been through a lot. The tea will allow him to rest for a few minutes. Crabtree has done quite a number on him. He's going to be confused by some of the images he saw, but in time they will become clearer and make sense."

"I've never heard of Crabtree whoever or whatever it is." Hutch said, massaging between his eyes, and taking a seat on the couch.

Jennifer sat next to Hutch. "It's a person. Remember when he said Marcus Welby and the man with white hair?

"Yeah. Strange. Why would Starsky be talking about a television show?"

"It sounds like a man I knew about six years ago. He was one of the psychiatrist who taught at the university I attended. If it's him, his real name is Douglas Foster. He had white hair even then. Prematurely grey. His face is weathered so he looks much older than his years. We use to call him Marcus Welby in medical school because of his uncanny resemblance to the television doc. He lost his license after it was revealed that he was experimenting with a brainwashing technique on homeless men who had not exactly volunteered. I was the one who turned him in."

"Do you think he's one of the guys who was involved in that brainwashing plot I told you about?" Hutch asked.

"Maybe. He had this theory that anyone could be brainwashed into doing anything."

"And I thought Janet Harlow was behind this."

"And she still may be involved. I doubt the good doctor had the financial resources to do this on his own."

"Listen, I'm sorry about the way I acted a moment ago. It's just when it comes to him…"

"You become a mother hen," Jennifer continued.

"Hutch smiled sheepishly. "I just want to say, thank you Dr. Reese."

"You're welcome. But we're not done yet. We've got to find the doctor and help Starsky get over this Nyctophobia."

"Damn Janet Harlow," Hutch said, running a hand through his hair. "Give a man a horrible phobia just to make sure he doesn't leave home so you can frame him for a murder he didn't commit."

"Her plot was well thought out. No witnesses to his whereabouts if he couldn't go out after dark." Jennifer added.

Jennifer cleared her throat. "There's something you've got to face, Hutch. Dr. Foster is quite good at brainwashing."

"Not good enough to make Starsky into a murderer."

"Perhaps. But we can't be sure. Not until we get proff."

Hutch raised his voice, "I can be sure. This was a plot by Janet Harlow. What could be better than a man in jail for crimes he didn't commit? His entire life spent locked away thinking that he murdered three young women."

Hutch heard the words Janet Harlow spoke less than a year ago:

"_You will suffer as I have suffered. You will live as I will live. And one day you will beg for death and I shall not grant it." _


	9. Chapter 9

Echoes of Morgan

By M. Willow

**Chapter Nine**

Starsky awakened feeling better than he had in months. He remembered so much now, but it wasn't clear. He remembered seeing Dr. Crabtree, but was puzzled about a few things that happened at the doctor's house—like another man being there and seeing a film about the murdered girls. None of that had happened. He would have remembered if it had. Somehow he was confused and things that had happened were getting mixed up with other events. He rose from the bed vowing to talk to Hutch about it. He had spoken to Hutch about Crabtree many times. Maybe the two of them could figure out what happened.

Starsky stretched. He was still fully dressed so he headed toward the voices. He found Hutch and Jennifer sitting on the couch talking. He stood there observing the easy rapport between the two cops, wanting to savor the moment. He realized the seriousness of their situation—this could be their last days of freedom.

"I think it's time we pay Dr. Crabtree a visit," Starsky said walking towards the two blond detectives.

"So Jennifer is right. It may be the same man," Hutch asked.

Starsky looked sharply as Jennifer. "You know him?"

"It sounds like a doctor I had in college."

Jennifer recounted her theory about Dr. Crabtree to Starsky who listened with a growing sense of dread.

"Do you remember where he lives?" Hutch asked, looking at Starsky.

"Yeah, I remember looking out the car window. It was dark, but I could see enough to find the place."

"How did you meet Dr. Crabtree?" Hutch asked.

"Don't you remember Cap'n Dobey referred him after I refused to see the department shrinks? I told you all about him."

Hutch met Starsky's eyes, "Gordo, you never mentioned the doctor."

"Well that's impossible. I told you how relaxing it was sittin' in his living room instead of the department shrink's office. I even told you what happened during the sessions."

Starsky was gripped by horror when he saw the blank expresson on his partner's face. He went to the fireplace and leaned on it for support. His eyes met Hutch's. "Hutch, Cap'n Dobey told me it was okay to see Dr. Crabtree instead of the department shrink. I went there for over three months. I told you about it. Even asked you to come a few times, but you were always too busy."

"Starsk, think about it. When was I ever too busy to go with you to the doctor? Any doctor?"

Starsky sighed, the reality of what happened engulfing him. It was a false memory. The whole thing. He had never visited a kindly doctor who helped him through the worst time of his life. It had all been planted, just like the murders.

"Are you saying that Dobey didn't…?"

"Dobey told me that it wasn't necessary for you to see a shrink this time unless it seemed necessary. He figured once the drugs left your body you'd be okay."

"But I remember Hutch. I remember the living room. He called it the Sun Room because it got so much sunlight. He smoked a pipe in front of the fireplace. I remember… I remember…drinking those awful Mint Juleps on the porch. I even went back to him when I became scared of the dark."

Starsky could see Hutch move from the couch and Jennifer thankfully exiting the cabin. He was about to break down and he didn't want Jennifer there to see him when he did. The tears came hot and fast. Hutch was there holding him against his chest as the tears fell.

"Gonna be okay, buddy. We're gonna figure this thing out."

"I'm so sorry, Hutch. It's my fault. I've taken everything from you. Everything."

"No, Gordo. I still have the most important thing that matters."

Starsky held on desperately to Hutch. He no longer knew what was real, but at this moment, this time, Hutch was real. He was all that he had.

The tension was palpable in the car. Hutch drove while Jennifer sat in back with Starsky. The dark-haired detective gave directions as Hutch drove, but his voice was filled with tension as the skies over Bay City darkened. They were on their way to Dr. Foster. At least he hoped they were on their way. It was also a possibility that the entire thing was a false memory and they would get there and find an empty lot.

Hutch thought about the day. He was tired; the kind of tired that goes all the way to the bone, but time was of the essence. They had decided to visit the doctor under the cover of darkness. It wasn't going to be easy for Starsky, but there was no choice. They couldn't take a chance on driving through the streets in broad daylight. They were all wanted now, even Jennifer now that she had decided to go with them.

Hutch looked through the rear-view mirror. Starsky was staring straight ahead, and Jennifer was holding his hand and soothing him in a gentle voice. So far, his friend seemed to have his fears under control, but Hutch knew that could all end the minute Starsky had to leave the car.

"Do you have any other fears, detective Starsky?" Jennifer asked.

"Not too crazy about heights," Starsky replied.

"Have you ever had to go up high in the line of duty?"

"A few times."

"And how did you deal with it?"

"It needed to be done. I just did it."

"Okay. Well this is the same thing. In a few minutes we'll be at the house. All our lives depend on you getting out of the car without alerting the occupants to our presence. We may have to walk a little since we can't just pull the car up in front."

Hutch watched as Starsky blinked. He wanted to go back there and comfort him, have Jennifer drive the car. But she was the professional and he was not. She was the best person for Starsky now and he was grateful. She had put her life on the line for a man she barely knew. He could never repay her.

Jennifer continued talking to Starsky. "You love Hutch don't you?"

"Well of course. He's closer to me than my own brother."

"He needs you, Starsky. He needs you now more than ever."

Hutch could hear Starsky take a deep breath. He wouldn't say that he approved of Jennifer's methods, but they would be effective. Starsky would do anything to prevent something from happening to him.

In the distance, a large Victorian home came into view. Hutch glanced around the streets, grateful to see that they were deserted. "We better ditch the car here and walk the rest of the way."

Hutch parked the car then all three got out. Hutch took his gun out. He looked at his partner and saw the barely concealed hysteria that was almost at the surface. Hutch locked eyes with Starsky as if he could give him strength just by looking at him. Starsky smiled and headed for the house.

Doctor Foster lived on a quiet tree-lined street in a Queen Anne Victorian house. The house was white with a large circular porch enclosing it. There were several houses on the same block that were similar in appearance, but the doctor had the most impressive house and by far the largest.

"I'm going around the back," Jennifer whispered gun in hand.

Hutch wanted to protest, but he knew she was right. It was best to split up. He looked at Starsky who had a light sheen of sweat on his face. He was worried about him. His friend had a horrifying phobia of the dark and there wasn't a single light on in the house. He could hear the short breaths of his friend as they moved towards the house.

"Easy now," Hutch said as Starsky staggered for a moment.

"I'm okay," Starsky said.

They reached the door and Starsky retrieved a small tool-kit from his pocket. They would have to pick the locks in order to get inside. Hutch knew it was against the law--they should announce themselves before entering. Still, he was prepared to do whatever it took to retrieve the film. If that meant putting his scruples aside for Starsky, then so be it.

Hutch heard the lock click and the door opened. Starsky seemed to be calming down, probably because they were going inside where he would eventually be able to turn on a light. Hutch wondered where Jennifer might be as they entered the house.

The house was in total darkness as they entered but Hutch was able to make out the faint outline of furniture in a large room at the end of the foyer. This must be where the treatments took place. Hutch put a protective hand on Starsky's shoulder and was surprised to find his partner totally relaxed. It was as if the darkness no longer bothered him, yet the house was darker than it had been outside. Hutch filed this information away. They had to find the film.

Starsky continued into the living room, Hutch following. Jennifer entered through another door in the room. Now, all three detectives walked around the large room. The room was unusually dark but Hutch noticed a large fireplace and remembered Starsky mentioning one when he was under hypnosis. This is probably where he was brainwashed. The thought disgusted him.

Hutch had just turned to leave the room when it happened—all the lights came on at once and the doors slammed shut. Hutch listened as the gravely voice of a man spoke,

"Good evening gentlemen, glad you could join me."

Hutch turned quickly, his eyes scanning the room for the source of the voice, but the room was empty except for the three of them.

"Excuse me for not making an appearance, but I do believe you would shoot me if I did. My name is Dr. Foster and you are my lab rats."

Jennifer joined the two detectives in the center of the room. They were all holding their guns and scanning the room at the same time. Hutch could see that the windows were covered. No doubt they were also reinforced with some sort of covering. He knew without looking that there was no escape from the room.

Hutch noticed two cameras hanging from the ceiling. Apparently, the doctor was observing from some other room in the house. Hutch looked at Starsky. His eyes seemed glassy, distant, like he didn't know what was going on.

"Starsky," Hutch said, but received no reply.

"What the hell do you think you're doing," Jennifer shouted, her eyes searching the room.

"Observing an experiment, dear child. Oh, and getting a taste of revenge."

"Detective, it's time," the graveled voice said and in one motion Starsky struck Jennifer, knocking her to the floor, and aimed his gun at Hutch.

Hutch looked at the blonde detective lying unconscious on the floor and then into the eyes of his best friend. What he saw there chilled him. Starsky's cobalt blue eyes which normally radiated warmth were dark, filled with hate. He advanced on Hutch, his intentions clear. Hutch raised his own gun, aiming it at Starsky. His hands were shaking, his pulse quickening. He was about to shoot his best friend, the man who meant more to him than life itself. Starsky was close, too close. At this range any shot could mean death. If he got lucky his friend would only be injured. If he were lucky. But then luck had deserted him for most of the day.

"Starsk, it's me, Hutch," he said, looking for some glimmer of recognition. Starsky held the gun steady and stopped. He stood there like he was waiting for orders. Hutch heard the graveled voice of Dr. Foster.

"He will not pull the trigger until I tell him to do so detective and you of course would never pull the trigger. You see I've taken the time to study my lab rats. I know about your relationship with my subject. Sick if you ask me, but it will serve my purpose. If he can kill you, a man he worships, then I can brainwash anyone into taking a life or anything else for that matter."

"You mean you've done all this, just so you could test some sort of brainwashing technique?" Hutch asked tightly.

"Not all. You see my benefactor required me to do a few things for her. All those murders, really. So senseless, but I saw the potential in you two. I saw the chance to see just how effective my technique is."

"Benefactor?" Hutch asked.

"Mrs. Harlow, of course. I unfortunately lack the funds for an endeavor such as this. No, she was kind enough to provide the money. Of course, she hadn't envisioned that I had my own agenda. She only wanted me to see that he was deemed insane and spend the rest of his life in an institution for the criminally insane. Such a waste if you ask me."

Hutch stared at Starsky. He was just standing there, his eyes distant, his expression a mask. Hutch still held the gun in his hand.

"So did you make him kill those girls?" He had to ask. He believed in Starsky's innocence, but he needed to hear the words.

"No, unfortunately, Mrs. Harlow was more entertained by an innocent man being committed. She hired someone else to do the killing and made him think he did it. I shall of course honor that part of the deal and have him institutionalized, although, the poor thing will probably get the death sentence for killing all those women and two cops."

Hutch remembered the words Janet Harlow uttered the day the verdict was read:

_You will suffer as I have suffered. You will live as I will live. And one day you will beg for death and I shall not grant it._

And Starsky would suffer, once he realized he'd killed his best friend. Hutch felt the sting of tears behind his eyes and fought to control them. He couldn't shoot Starsky. He'd rather die than shoot his best friend. Hutch lowered his gun.

"So, how did you know we were coming?" Hutch asked, hoping to stall for time.

"Once I discovered that you and your partner were on the lam and that Dr. Reese had disappeared, I knew it was only a matter of time. You see, Dr. Reese and I have a history."

Hutch recalled Jennifer saying that she'd been the one to turn Dr. Foster in for doing experiments on homeless people.

"I know about your history," he said.

"I've followed her career for years. Hating her for what she did to me. Did she tell you that I was the one to teach her about hypnosis? Did she tell you?"

Hutch recalled the strange tea and the way Starsky had yielded to her hypnotic voice.

Dr. Foster continued, "I went around the world learning techniques, finding herbs that would open the mind. She was my protégée, my legacy. But she threw it all away because of her high-minded ideals. Well she'll pay. She'll pay with her life."

"So you figured Jennifer could get through your barriers and we'd show up here?"

"Well that's where the plot changed. You see, Starsky was supposed to suggest you come and see me. I must have slipped up somehow. I guess I was too good at preventing him from talking about me. I'll have to work on that."

The doctor laughed and Hutch braced himself for what he knew would come next.

"Detective Starsky, kill him!" Foster ordered.

Everything happened in slow motion. Hutch watched as Starsky aimed the gun at his heart. He locked eyes with the detective as the tears he tried so desperately to hold back, came forth. Starsky seemed to pause for a moment, his finger on the trigger.

"I forgive you, buddy. I love you," Hutch said so quietly that only the brunet standing in front of him could hear it. Hutch dropped the gun.

"Pull the trigger," Foster shouted again.

And then, Starsky did pull the trigger. Hutch watched as one moment the gun was aimed at him, and the next Starsky had fired at the two cameras that hung from the ceiling.

"Let's get outa here," Starsky said, running to the fireplace.

Hutch gave a sigh of relief, Starsky was back, and they would escape. He retrieved his gun from the floor and checked Jennifer who was just regaining consciousness.

"What happened?" she asked, getting unsteadily to her feet.

"Can you walk," Starsky yelled, nervously looking around the room.

"Yeah," she said groggily, picking the gun up, and joining Starsky by the fireplace. Hutch stood by the door. He expected one of Fosters goons to enter any minute.

Starsky went to the fireplace and pulled a brick out. The fireplace opened to reveal a passageway.

"Hutch, come on!" he gestured.

Hutch followed Starsky and Jennifer through the passageway.

"We gotta get up the stairs before he gets away. He keeps a room upstairs. He won't leave without his research."

Starsky approached a door at the end of the passage. Both detectives stood on opposite sides of the door. They nodded at each other, than kicked the door down, crashing through in their customary high, low method. They came out in a darkened hall with rooms on each side. The hall was empty empty. Starsky raced down the hall and up the stairs, the two blonde detectives on his heel.

"It's that door at the end of the hall, Hutch." Starsky called out as he dashed for the door.

They were nearing the door when Hutch saw a shadow race out of one of the rooms. It was a tall man and he was aiming a gun at Starsky. Hutch spared no time in shooting him as Starsky dove for the floor. The hulking form crumbled, his eyes open. Starsky stood and continued to the room at the end of the hall.

Jennifer stayed by the body of the fallen man, her eyes scanning the length of the hall. Hutch raced toward Starsky.

Starsky cautiously approached the door. Hutch realized everything depended on what happened these final moments. Starsky took his place on the right side of the door. Hutch to the left. Hutch eyed Starsky, nodding his head and then both crashed through the door. It took only seconds for Starsky to register the figure of Dr. Foster standing there with a gun in his hands. Seconds for Starsky to aim his own gun and shoot the doctor through the heart. Seconds for the man to look into the face of his opponent, to see his dark blue eyes as he took his final breaths.

It was finally over. The proof that was found in the doctor's office was more than enough to exonerate Starsky. Starsky was grateful that neither of his friends were punished for helping him. Dobey had claimed they were undercover.

Doctor Foster's files revealed the true identity of the murderer of all three women. He was a hitman who bore an uncanny resembelance to Starsky. He had been arrested earlier in the week. Unfortunately, they were unable to discover if the doctor was involved in the brainwashing scam that occurred a few years ago that had resulted in the death of Joe Durniak.

Starsky marveled at the complexity of the plot. Doctor Foster's notes revealed that his memories of the crimes were triggered by a telephone call. The doctor would merely say one word to indicate which scenario he'd recall and then have the hit man kill the victim. Starsky remained in a trance until after the murders were comitted. He had no memory of the call or the ensuing trance. The doctor covered his tracks well. Starsky wasn't the only victim. Kathryn had also been given false memories.

Starsky cursed Janet Harlow again. She may not have ordered his friends death, but she had caused the whole series of events that had lead to it. He'd come so close to killing Hutch. Only the tears Hutch shed and the love he professed for him had brought him out of the trance. Janet Harlow had to be stopped—stopped at all cost.

Now, Starsky paced nervously in the waiting room of the prison. He was alone. He had arranged to see Janet Harlow alone in this prison because what he was about to say could never leave this room. He didn't even want Hutch to bare witness to the scene that awaited him. He was lucky. He had many sympathizers among his fellow cops, so they had allowed him the privacy that was normally reserved for a lawyer and his client. The conversation would not be witnessed or recorded. He was never there.

Starsky looked up when he heard the clang of the door. It was time, so he schooled his features to convey not a nervous man, but a cold, ruthless man.

The door opened and a prison guard accompanied a grey haired woman with eyes the color of steel. Her commanding persona and plastic surgery made her look younger than her years. Here was a woman accustomed to power.

Janet Harlow regarded him and took a seat in one of the plastic chairs that surrounded the single table in the room. Starsky took a seat opposite her. The guard looked at Starsky for a moment and left the room.

"Round two," she said harshly. "I'll give it to you. You're a resilient bastard, but they say the third time is the charm."

Starsky met her eyes and she shrank back for an instant as if she had seen something repulsive. She quickly regained her composure and smiled, but Starsky could see the fear beneath the smile. He spoke, his voice low and dangerous, "If you ever try again, I will see that you suffer. I will see that everything you have. Everything that matters is destroyed."

She leaned forward, meeting his eyes. All fear had dissolved in the instant he had spoken. "You'll do nothing, detective. I'm safe in here. And they treat me well. My money sees to that. I may be a prisoner. I may die here. But I'll live well before I die and I'll destroy you one day. I'll destroy you and make you pay for my daughter's death."

Starsky grabbed her hand and the old woman trembled for an instant. He was a dangerous man now, a predator, and she could feel it in this room of gray plastic chairs. And he could feel it, too. He looked at her neck, so easily broken. A life ended in seconds. A life taken for all she had taken. A life taken for almost making him kill Hutch. The rage went through Starsky making him regret not letting Hutch come with him. He was losing control and he knew it, but it was too late, and he was alone with the rage and the old woman.

"You have connections. You live well," he said, the rage boiling to the surface making his voice hard. "I will make sure that don't continue. Not here. Not anywhere. You see I have connections too. Connections that go all the way back to New York. Now, normally I play it straight. I don't particularly care for the mob types. Spent my career hating them. But I'll make an exception for you." I'll see that you get to hell faster than you imagined, but first you'll find out what hell is about. He leaned forward, tightening his grip on her hand. "I'll make you beg for death and I'll come to watch you beg."

Starsky watched her grey eyes fill with uncertainty. He felt her hand shake. He saw the terror she felt come to the surface. He wanted to stop, stop the rage, but he was powerless to stop it. He continued, "You're all alone. Nobody visits you. Your family just waitin' for you to die so they can get their hands on your money. Ya think anybody gonna care what I do to you? Some of them might even help."

Her eyes met his, and although he could see the fear, almost taste it, she refused to let it come completely to the surface. He felt the tension in her body as he tightened the grip on her hand. He was hurting her, but he didn't care.

"You killed my daughter. You killed the only thing that mattered to me." She rasped.

"You killed your own daughter. You killed her with your greed. Ya couldn't share her, so you destroyed her. You may just have well have driven the car into the lake yourself."

Starsky watched as the woman seemed to shrink into herself. He released his hold on her hand and she jerked it back, rubbing it, her head down.

Starsky stood and walked to the door. He struck the door once, than looked at Janet Harlow who seemed to suddenly age before his eyes. "You haven't heard the end of this. I'll get you," she shouted, the challenge still in the eyes.

"I've seen the end of you alright. One way or another, it ends now." Starsky said slowly, the dangerous edge still in his voice.

The guard came and opened the door. Starsky walked through the door. He spared one more glance at Janet Harlow and then he was gone.

Fin

_Authors note: _

_Definitions: _

_Nyctophobia: an irrational fear of the night or of darkness in general._

_Panic attack: __a sudden overpowering feeling of fear or anxiety that prevents somebody from functioning, often triggered by a past or present source of anxiety._

_Panic attack symptoms: Trembling, shortness of breath, heart palpitations, sweating, nausea, dizziness, hyperventilation, tingling sensations, and chocking or smothering sensation. Can be triggered by a phobia._


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